


Lament

by Saya087



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beth Greene Lives, Beth/Daryl Reunion, Daryl still misses Beth after all this time, Depression, F/M, Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Longing, Loss, Memories, Regret, Reunion Sex, Short & Sweet, bethyl, season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-24 06:07:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6143971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saya087/pseuds/Saya087
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Months have passed and Daryl is still grieving Beth's loss. No matter how hard he tries, he can't forget her and the regret of everything that was left unsaid between the two of them. Set in the second half of season 6, inspired by Daryl begging Rick not to play that CD in episode 6x10. Depressing, but will have a happy ending, because Daryl and Beth deserve it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Regret

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome. This is going to be a much shorter (don't see it going beyond a few chapters) story than my epically long Bethyl fic, "The Hunt." This has been in my head for the past week since episode 6x10 left me wondering what was going on in Daryl's head when he begs Rick not to put the CD in the player while they're out on a run.  
> Warning: Spoilers for season 6B.  
> Warning: Depressed Daryl.

“ _Why do you grieve so uselessly? Every uncertainty is the result of a certainty. There is nothing in this world really to be lamented.”_

 _-_ Murasaki Shikibu,  _The Tale of Genji._

 

“Don't, don't. Just please don't,” Daryl begged Rick from the passenger seat.

Rick looked up from the CD he was trying to jam in the car's player and gave Daryl a quizzical stare.

_I'll be gone someday._

_Stop._

_I will._

_Stop, stop. Just please stop._

That familiar shuddering ache coursed through him, starting as a sharp stab of pain in the center of his chest and radiating outwards. He could see her, Beth, sitting on the porch of that moonshine shack with him, staring at him with those wild eyes, the ones that were brimming so full of passion and life that any second now they threatened to overflow and drown him—and maybe they had.

Six months, maybe a year, he wasn't sure anymore, had passed since that burning light in her eyes had been snuffed out in the span of heartbeat.

_Bang._

The sound had echoed through the cold sterile hallway as the clink of a metal shell bounced off the tiles. It was a noise that would forever echo in his brain.

There wasn't a fucking day that went by that he didn't think of that second, that horrific, vile sound, that torrent of noise that snapped forward out of a dark quiet void of nothingness to extinguish that fire, her fire. In that second, all the hope had been sucked out of the world in one shuddering, languishing breath. The sparrows chirping outside the windows had fallen silent, their wingbeats singing a hurried lament for Beth as the gunshot scattered them. Hope crumpled to the floor and thick red blood pooled as beginnings that never had the chance to begin were smothered under a thick layer of ash as the sound erupted.

Daryl had been trying. He had been trying for a long time, trying for her, because it's what she would have wanted. Helping Aaron bring in new people, trusting these people—that had all been for her, to prove to her and to himself that he could still feel the places her pale slender fingers had touched his soul. But after the wolf attack, after that run-in with that group of bikers, after all that looking for new people had turned up jack shit, after countless nights of lying awake on the mattress in the downstairs bedroom of Rick's house while Carol's snores drifted from the room down the hall as he considered that Beth might still be alive, hell might even be (he dared to think) curled up under the blanket next to him, her soft breaths falling across his chest in slow gentle waves as she slept, if only she hadn't been so good natured and trusting and wanting to save everyone. If only she would have just left that boy, Noah, just walked away from him and come to stand behind Daryl, wrap her thin arms around his chest from behind like she did one hot Georgia afternoon.

The CD was now blasting and Daryl felt like it was tearing him apart from the inside out. Each note was a tiny claw as sharp as his hunting knife, as sharp as Beth's knife which he still carried with him on his belt, ripping into his heart, his lungs, his veins, shredding the soft tissue and flesh to ribbons.

_I know my singing annoys ya._

No, that couldn't be further from the truth. He'd give anything, sell his soul to the devil, walk through a fucking herd of walkers, to hear that sweet lilting voice again. The road in front of the car blurred. His head throbbed with an unbearable pain and he punched the off button with his fist.

“You ok, brother?” Rick asked. He had slowed the car and was watching Daryl carefully.

“Yeah. 's nothin'. Headache 's all,” he muttered, his eyes drifting over the fields where the first few tiny buds of spring flowers shivered in the brown grass that had yet to fully come back to life.

Beth had shivered like those little flowers once. During the weeks before they stumbled upon that cursed fucking funeral home, the weather had become cool and he and Beth were sleeping outside nearly every night without much more than a blanket of stars. He remembered the way she had so very nervously approached him one night like she thought he'd bite her hand off for trying to touch him. The leaves crunched as she scooted closer to him, carefully, in a measured way, like she thought she might break him. She laid her head on his shoulder for half a second before sitting up and shooting him a quick glance.

_Is this ok?_

Daryl had shifted and draped an arm around her shoulders and Beth dropped her head back down. Her fingers curled in the front of his shirt and slid under his jacket for warmth. When she was settled, he tilted his head down to look at her and grunted. She hummed in response and closed her eyes, a little smile pulling at the corners of her lips. His heart sped up and he couldn't help but smile for a few seconds himself. From then on out, that scene played out every single night they slept in the forest.

As the days went by, Daryl found himself looking forward to those nights more and more. They spent the daylight hours pushing through the trees, Beth walking just ahead of him. He stayed back so he could take in the sway of her hips, the way the sunlight filtered through the trees, dappling the back of her tattered gray sweater and her shinning blonde ponytail. Her fingers sometimes would trail in the tall grass, reaching to caress a flower as she hummed to herself. He waited for those rare times when she'd look over her shoulder at him and give him one of those sweet little smiles that made something in his gut flutter and squirm.

In those moments, when it was just the sound of their breathing, her humming, and his heart pounding, it truly felt like they were the only two people left in the world. How he wished that could have been the reality of it.

In those days, he was only just beginning to realize how very special she was. Now in hindsight, he had come to understand that she was it for him, the _one_ , and there would never be another Beth.

_The pain doesn't go away. You just make room for it._

Daryl had been making room for it all his life—not just pain, but disappointments, setbacks, failures, losses, regrets. All of them were stacked floor to ceiling in the dark spaces of his mind. He had been collecting them since before he could remember and filing them away on creaky, dusty shelves.

The last one, Beth's death, was the most difficult one. The immensity of it, the weight of it, it just didn't fucking fit, no matter where he tried to cram it and so he was stuck holding it, his arms aching more every second under the crush of it.

Gravel crunched beneath the tires as Rick pulled the car off the road. A cloud of dust coated the windows. Rick turned off the engine and looked at him.

“Hey, where'd ya go?” Rick asked.

“Huh?” Daryl mumbled.

As he snapped to, he realized he had taken Beth's knife off his belt and was stroking the bone hilt. Rick was waiting for a coherent answer, his harsh blue eyes darting between Daryl's face and Beth's knife.

“Thinkin' about her?” Rick questioned.

Daryl nodded slowly. His eyes traced over the bone handle of the knife. He wrapped his fingers around it and gave it a squeeze as if somehow he could absorb whatever energy she had saturated the knife with. Rick was waiting for him to talk. He could sense it. Those cold blue eyes were peeling away the outer layer of his skin.

He didn't know if he could, if he should. He hadn't talked to any of the group about Beth's death let alone his feelings for her. He wouldn't have been surprised though if at least some of the less dense ones had figured it out by the way he absolutely broke, fell to pieces, shattered as that gunshot rang out. Daryl didn't remember carrying her body out of the hospital or closing it in the trunk of a car since they didn't have time for a proper burial. The next thing he knew, he was curled up, alone, behind a tree somewhere outside of Atlanta, choking back sobs, his face covered in a salty wetness while the others sat somberly around a fire in the distance.

“Ya never did say what happened between the two of you out there,” Rick said.

“Not much to tell. We survived together, mostly livin' in the woods. Was teachin' her to track and use my crossbow.”

“I know you, Daryl and I get the feelin' there's more to it than that. Ya loved her, didn't ya?”

The question took him aback and he sucked in a breath, struggling to find the right words. Instead, a jumbled mess of them tumbled out.

“I mean as a sister, as family,” Rick corrected.

“Nah. Not like that. Different,” Daryl admitted.

“How? Ya mean like--”

Daryl cut him off, tucking the knife back in his belt. He shrugged and sighed, “Ain't matter now. Never got to tell her anyway.”

_It does matter._

“Oh, so ya _loved_ her.” Rick's mouth lifted into a half-smile, but the sadness that hung between the two of them stopped it from turning into a real grin.

“Was gonna tell her, but I couldn't fuckin' do it,” Daryl snapped. The pain was quickly changing element—liquid into fire. He punched at the door.

“Hey, I'm sure she knew. That's jus' the kind of girl she was, one of them intuitive types who could tell how ya were feelin' that day before you yourself had made up your mind,” Rick assured him.

“Not so sure she did,” Daryl grumbled.

He wasn't and the longer time went on, the more unsure he became. He was going to tell her that night in the kitchen of the funeral home. Well, maybe not tell her he was in love, but tell her that he felt something, the beginnings of something and ask her if she felt it too. The words wouldn't come though no matter how hard he tried. His lips were like a safe that he had long since lost the combination to.

He had memorized her face as she stared at him in the candlelight and whispered that breathless little, “oh.” Some nights, he took it out and asked Rick's question.

_Did she know?_

He would turn the memory over, taking in every inch of her face, carefully looking for signs as if it was a set of animal tracks winding through the woods.

_All the signs are there. Ya just gotta know how to read 'em._

Yes, all the signs were there written in the soft skin of her face—that little furrow of the brow, that wide eyed stare, that slight cock of the head, that twitch at the corner of her lips as if her brain was trying to work out the proper expression—frown or smile, and that way her mouth had opened slightly, giving a tiny glimpse of her teeth. Hell if he could read them though. Over and over, Daryl reworked the clues, added and subtracted them from each other, made a list of possible explanations for each one until finally the whole thing had become so jumbled and tangled, he was more unsure than he had been that night.

During the time he spent searching for her, all he could think about was redoing that moment, telling her in a more obvious and less confusing way. He planned their reunion in his head more times than he could count. He pictured her being held somewhere, maybe locked in a room. He would break into the building where she was being kept with Rick at his side and the others too, Maggie, Glenn, Carol, Tyreese. They would sneak up on whatever bastard had taken her and blow his fucking brains out in one fell swoop. Before his body could even hit the floor, Daryl would be off, running through the building screaming her name, kicking in every door, and killing every sonofabitch that got in his way until he found where she was being held.

He'd find her shivering in some cold room. She'd be covered in cuts and scars from trying to fight back because she had grown strong and she was every bit as tough and brave as her sister. Relief would fall over her face and he'd share in that feeling himself. He'd throw his denim jacket around her shoulders and help her up and just hold her for however long she wanted before sweeping her off her feet and carrying her the hell out of there. He'd tell her everything—how he never stopped looking for her, never stopped thinking about her, and most importantly that he was in love with her and had been for months.

Daryl should have known it would never pan out like that. When had anything ever gone well in this world for him before or after the turn?

“Hey, hey,” Rick said calling him back from the void, “Ya gotta stay hopeful cause that's what she would want.”

How do you have hope when hope has been slain?

“Ya gotta have faith that she knew and even if ya don't you gotta try. Pretend until it's real because I need your head right out here. I need you. Those people back there need you,” Rick told him.

“Sorry, man. I jus'--” he reached for an excuse, but there was none. Everyone else had stopped talking about Beth months ago, probably stopped thinking about her too—even Maggie. He was the only one that still carried the burden and he carried it all alone now.

“I get it. I've been there. When we get back, let's grab a beer and we'll talk.”

Daryl nodded and Rick patted his shoulder before pulling back onto the road. Daryl tried to call his mind back from the darkness. He focused on every stupid, trivial thing he could think of. He made lists in his head of the items they were supposed to be out here looking for—some kind of grain that Eugene wanted them to grow, food, toothpaste, pop for Denise. Pop. What a weird thing to call soda, he grumbled to himself.

Beth probably would have been given a job helping Denise at the clinic. She didn't know nearly as much as her father, but she did have more medical knowledge that a lot of the other people in Alexandria and most of all, she was good natured and sweet. Her patients would have adored her.

Daryl's brain plunged off the cliff again into that deep pool that was Beth and he found himself imagining himself dropping by the clinic to say hello after he got back from a run, asking her how her day was and telling her about his.

Daryl didn't have too much time to think on it because Rick had pulled the car off the road again, this time at a promising looking building. He didn't have much time to think most of the rest of the day either between having their truck full of supplies stolen by a raving lunatic who called himself “Jesus”, chasing that said lunatic up and down the fucking road all day and finally beating his ass and taking him back in the car with them.

Daryl had been against it, but Rick had insisted. Daryl would have left the sonofabitch for dead if it was up to him, like they should have done with Noah. He grumbled and shoved the man away from him.

“I mean it. We're gonna have that beer and talk about her,” Rick said.

Daryl looked up and saw Rick staring at him in the rearview mirror, his blue eyes trying to pierce through Daryl's skull and pick apart his thoughts.

“Sure, man,” he muttered, “Think this is a mistake 's all,” he added, nudging the unconscious man again.

“You gotta quit sayin' stuff like that. You were right. When we first got here and I didn't want to bring in any more people and ya did, you were right. I see that now.”

“No, I wasn't. Who's gonna die this time? If we hadn't tried to save Noah back at that hospital, Beth would still be alive.”

“You don't know that and that wasn't your choice or mine, it was _hers_.”

“Whatever,” Daryl grumbled under his breath, giving Jesus another shove.

He knew Rick was right. No matter how much it pissed him off, the choice had been out of their hands.

After they had Jesus looked over by Denise, Daryl took watch over the unconscious man until around midnight when Sasha came to relieve him. He made his way back up the street, his hands in his pockets. The stars spilled out overhead and he remembered a night when he pointed out a few constellations to Beth so that if she ever got lost, she could find her way. Too bad all of that was for nothing. He should have just worked harder at making sure she didn't get lost in the first place.

The lights in the house were all off when he got in. He closed the door to his bedroom and kicked off his boots. He didn't bother to light a candle or take off his clothes. He flopped down on the left side of the bed—the same one he always slept on as if the right side was reserved for someone else, someone else who was never coming.

_So you do still believe there's good people. What changed your mind?_

_You._

That was bullshit. He punched the pillow next to him. Beth's face swam before him in the darkness. She looked crestfallen and sad, disappointed even.

_What changed your mind?_

_Bang._

Daryl fell into a restless sleep. He had never been a very deep sleeper, but things only got worse after her death. Scenes flickered through his head, part thought, part dream, part memory.

They were sitting by a campfire while she sung so quietly he could barely make out the lyrics of her song and even then it was an unfamiliar one. When she realized he was staring, she looked up at him and smiled.

“I love you,” she said.

_I love you too._

The words wouldn't come out, as usual, and he felt the agony of failure. She smiled again anyways and kept singing.

_Jus' keep singing._

_Forever._

 

 


	2. Always With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Season 6 spoilers.

“ _Life is full of uncertainties, perhaps one day some unforeseen circumstance would bring her into his life once more.”_

_-Murasaki Shikibu, The Tale of Genji._

 

Beth was playing the piano in a darkened room lit by a dozen tiny candles. Daryl stood in the doorway, watching her quietly, carefully, like a hunter watches a deer, afraid to even breathe for fear of scaring the creature away. He didn't want to startle her, to make her stop playing, and yet, he wanted her to know that he was there and maybe to feel like he was a part of this scene too and to be present with her. He cleared his throat. Her fingers crashed down onto the keys making a strange mess of sound like the startled cry of a sparrow as it's caught in the talons of a hawk. She spun around on the bench to face him with that breathless little smile.

“Sorry. I know my singin' annoys ya,” she said.

He cringed at her words, “No, it doesn't.”

He crossed the dark room and climbed into the coffin.

“Why don't ya keep playin'?” he said, stretching his arm up behind his head.

The room faded to black and the sound of her singing filled his brain.

The birds in the tree outside the window woke him just before dawn, like they did everyday. Even after all these months of having the security of a warm bed and walls surrounding it, he found that he couldn't sleep for more than a few hours each night. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and stepped into his boots. He caught a whiff of himself as he went to pull off his shirt and wondered just when the last time he had showered was. That was another thing he still wasn't used to having access to on a regular basis. It often slipped his mind that he had a bathroom right down the hall with a working shower that he was free to use any time.

When he was out there with Beth, he hadn't bathed at all. Beth on the other hand wasn't thrilled about the lack of bathing and talked him into watching her back so she could wash up. They stopped along the bank of a quiet little stream that was smooth and reflected the trees that towered above it on either side like a mirror. He tried to warn her that the water was going to be ice cold, but she was always stubborn as hell and had said she could handle a few minutes of pain in order to feel clean again.

Daryl stood there, his boots sinking into the muddy bank, gripping his crossbow, his shoulders back, eyes focused straight ahead, Beth's guardian, her protector, her knight. Wasn't that what knights did? Protect ladies whose love and attention they could only have for a handful of precious seconds here and there, a few drops of rain sprinkled on a wilting flowerbed on a sweltering July afternoon? Those ladies would ultimately belong to another, someone deemed worthy, a lord or king. Beth had always belonged to someone else, to Death. Death was her lord and Daryl was forever trapped in a quest to prove his worthiness to her.

“Oh my god, Daryl, it's freezin'!” she had shrieked as she waded into the water.

“Told ya it would be. Ya coulda gone a few more days without a bath,” he told her.

Not like she really smelled that bad.

“Ya could wait until we find...” he started.

_Find what?_

He wasn't really foolish enough to believe they'd find a place with a generator, with hot water. The best they could hope for would be to find a big tub and heat a few buckets full of water over a fire.

He could hear her teeth chattering behind him. He shifted the crossbow to his shoulder and dug in the backpack and remembered they didn't have anything to use for a towel. He swore under his breath realizing that she was going to come out of the water and have to stand shivering and naked on the bank.

He tore apart the bag looking for anything she might wrap around herself when she was finished washing. The only thing they had besides Beth's clothes was a spare button down black shirt that was Daryl's. They had just found it a few days before. With the weather turning cooler, Beth had insisted they keep a look out for warmer clothes, long sleeved shirts, sweaters, jackets. He held up the shirt, it was dirty and had a few splotches of blood along the chest.

Behind him, the water sloshed as she waded to the shore and he could hear the streams of water running down her body, dripping from her fingertips and hair. She swore and he knew she remembered they didn't have a towel. He stretched his arm out to the side, dangling the shirt, but she didn't take it. He sucked in a breath and with one swift movement like a bull fighter swinging his red cape, he threw the shirt around her shoulders and pulled her into an awkward hug. She wriggled against him and he thought she was pushing away, but she was only readjusting herself so she could slide her arms under his vest—for warmth, he told himself at the time—and lock her fingers over his spine.

Daryl still had that shirt. He dug around in the dresser and found it buried under the few other articles of clothing he owned. It was dirty and tattered and hadn't been washed since the last time he wore it at the funeral home with Beth. Carol had tried to wash it for him when they first got to Alexandria, but he had refused. He ripped it out of her fingers with such a fierce anger the woman had let out a whimper. He took it back to his room and folded it away in the dresser, never to be worn again, but today, for whatever reason, he was considering it. Wearing it one day wouldn't ruin it. He'd just be careful about where he laid it when he changed his clothes to make sure it didn't wind up in the wash.

Daryl stripped off his shirt and tossed it into the pile in the corner. He slid his arms into the sleeves of the cleanish shirt and did up the buttons. He remembered what she looked like in it—cute and tiny, the fabric swallowing up her small frame as she held it together to cover herself. Modesty was a rare commodity out there when it was just the two of them. She had to rely on him to watch her back while she took a piss, changed her clothes, bathed, slept.

At first it was horribly awkward for both of them, but as time went on, they had started to develop an ease with each other. It was more out of necessity than anything else, but there was something else to it too. It was too bad they never had time to figure out just what that something was.

The sound of boots pounding the floorboards in the hallway snapped him back to reality and he threw open the door. Carol was rushing past him towards the base of the stairs, her gun raised, finger on the trigger. She felt like a stranger these days and he almost felt uncomfortable living in the same house as her. She was ruthless and cold. He was glad she could take care of herself, but he didn't like the way she had lost all traces of the loving motherly figure she once was.

Daryl grabbed his gun off the top of the dresser and followed her down the hall out into the living room. He swore under his breath as he almost slammed into Carol who had her gun aimed at Jesus who was sitting at the top of the stairs. How the hell Jesus got out of his holding cell, Daryl had no clue. The guy was like a fucking ninja or a flying squirrel. Carl stood behind Jesus, his gun pressed to the blue-gray beanie the man was wearing. Michonne and Rick stumbled out of Rick's bedroom, both of them only half dressed. Michonne was only wearing only a pale yellow tank top and panties and Rick only had on a faded pair of boxers.

Abraham and Glenn came rushing up behind Daryl. Everyone stood staring open mouthed at Rick and Michonne. They seemed more shocked seeming two of their friends come running out of Rick's bedroom half naked than by seeing a strange bearded man at the top of the stairs. Daryl wasn't too surprised. How many times had Rick told him, “Michonne's really somethin', eh?”? More times than Daryl could count. He didn't know why Rick just didn't go for it sooner, tell her how he felt.

Shame crept over him. He was one to talk. Rick was different. Rick had all the confidence and charm that Daryl lacked. This should have been a walk in the park for a man like Rick. Maybe he was afraid Michonne would knock him on his ass for hitting on her.

Once everyone had gotten over their shock, they all gathered in the kitchen and had a big long discussion with Jesus about a potential trade deal with another group. Daryl still didn't think it was a good idea to trust him, but they were low on food and really had no choice but to load up in the RV and check the place out.

Daryl sat next to Abraham and across from Maggie and Glenn during the ride. He tried to avert his eyes from the two of them. He was happy for the pair of them, but seeing Maggie's head lolling on Glenn's shoulder as she slept and he stroked her growing stomach, made Daryl feel sick with longing for Beth. He wished Beth was sitting on the seat between him and Abraham. Daryl would have held her in the same way Glenn now held Maggie.

He thought of the last night they were out there together—the night before the funeral home, before Beth hurt her ankle. Daryl had shot a few squirrels and they ate them around a fire. The alarm system was wrapped around their small camp in a bony embrace. It was downright freezing that night. Daryl was sure by morning the ground would be covered in frost. Beth had layered a tattered gray sweater over the yellow polo she had taken from the country club. Daryl had found a denim jacket and had it on under his vest. All they had was a lonely raggedy blanket they had salvaged from a car.

Beth sat as close to the fire as she could without igniting herself. He could see her trembling from his position a few feet behind her. He ended up putting some large rocks on the fire to heat them and then he buried them in a row alongside the fire. Beth had watched him with a puzzled look, but once she laid down over where the stones were buried, she understood what he had done.

“It's so warm,” she said with smile that made the thing in his gut flutter and squirm.

He gave a satisfied grunt and went back to sharpening his knife. Hours later she woke up shivering again because the stones had cooled off. Daryl had been feeding the fire all night to try to keep her warm, but it wasn't enough. He was freezing himself.

“Daryl,” she mumbled sleepily.

“Hmm?”

She gave him a long stare and stretched an arm over her head. Her fingers caught the hem of his pants and she tugged on them. He didn't understand what she was asking. He sat there waiting for an explanation and he got one.

“Lay down,” she said quietly.

Daryl had considered arguing with her, telling her it wasn't a good idea, but why? They were both freezing and it was just the two of them out there. He curled up behind her, slowly, carefully, like he thought he might break her. He left a few inches of space between them, but she leaned back against him and closed the gap.

“You can put your arm around me,” she said, drawing in a deep breath.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He draped his arm over her ribs.

“Like this?” he asked. His arm felt heavy on her tiny body and he was worried he would crush her bones.

She took his hand in hers and pressed it to the center of her chest. The tugging on his arm caused him to shift forward. He nuzzled his face into the back of her neck. The pulse in her chest quickened beneath his fingers and his did too, but she only pressed closer to him and hugged his arm more tightly to her body.

“Like this,” she agreed.

They had both drifted off to sleep and when they awoke the next morning they were still in the same position. He didn't want to get up that morning and she didn't seem to either. He could tell by her breathing that she was awake, yet she didn't move until he reluctantly sat up after deciding this was something they could do more often now that it was cold outside. This didn't have to be the last time, he had thought that morning. If only he had known it would be, he would have laid there all damn day with her.

Daryl had removed Beth's knife from his belt and was stroking it absentmindedly. He turned it over in his hands. His fingertips knew every inch of it by heart. Abraham was staring at him. He nervously leaned in closer to get a better look at what Daryl was doing.

“That knife, you're always touchin' it and lookin' at it. It belonged to someone, someone you lost?” Abraham said quietly.

Daryl nodded, but didn't say anything.

Glenn leaned forward carefully, trying not to wake his wife.

“It was Beth's,” Glenn said.

“Your wife's sister, right?” Abraham started, “The one that...” he trailed off and made a face as he swiped his fingers across the front of his throat.

Glenn nodded and stared down at his feet. Daryl's fingers tightened around the knife. The two men watched him intently. Glenn leaned back against his seat after a minute. Abe seemed like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself and for the rest of the ride he sat staring out the window, his face scrunched up in a deeply trouble look. Daryl decided that at least he was better than Abe at hiding his inner turmoil.

The ride was largely uneventful except for one small pit stop they had to make when Jesus spotted one of his people's cars tipped over in the ditch. They were able to locate the group without much trouble and they continued on until the RV got stuck in a mud hole. Rick probably should have been watching the road instead of staring at Michonne, but Daryl couldn't blame him. He would have been just as distracted if he was driving and Beth was in the passenger seat next to him. Luckily Jesus' settlement was only a short walk.

Daryl still had a bad feeling about the place and it only worsened after they met Gregory—the leader of The Hilltop (could have come up with a more creative name, in Daryl's opinion). Gregory was a smarmy, fat asshole, the type that probably managed a bank or had some middle ranking office job, the kind of man who would have snubbed Daryl if they had ever crossed paths in the world before the turn.

When Gregory looked over their group, his eyes had come to rest on Daryl and he wrinkled up his nose and told them to go upstairs and get cleaned up. He and Abraham wound up in the same room, sharing a bathroom. Neither of the men showered. They used a couple of rags to clean up their faces and hands and went back into the sitting area to wait.

The room was large and the walls were cluttered with bookshelves. The few pieces of furniture had been pushed to the edges of the room. Abe was examining himself in a round mirror that hung on the back wall.

_Always so concerned with his appearance._

Or maybe not? He was picking at something—a little silver chain with a piece of red dangling from it. His hand dropped to his side when he noticed Daryl watching him. He cleared his throat.

“So how long you think Michonne and Rick been umpin bugglies?” Abe asked.

“What?” Daryl mumbled, "Dunno."

Daryl shook his head. He had lived in the house with the two of them for months now and hadn't seen any signs that they were fucking. Michonne's bedroom was on the second floor at the end of the hall, so he supposed they could have been hiding it. Michonne was sneaky and light footed so she probably could have made it down the hall without the boards creakng. Daryl had noticed all the smiles and stares that passed between the two of them seemed to be increasing over the past two months.

Yet, Rick had said nothing to him about it yesterday on the run, even when Daryl had told him that he still missed Beth. He wondered what the hell had happened during the time he was keeping watch over Jesus. It had to have been a recent development. If only he had Beth had gotten that chance. A wave of nausea rolled through him and he slumped back into the victorian style armchair.

Abe was still fingering that necklace.

“You ever think about settling down?”

“Who the fuck I got to settle down with?” the words burst forth and Daryl narrowed his eyes at Abe.

“You and Carol ain't?”

“Hell no.”

“I just thought, Michonne's with Rick, Maggie's with Glenn, Tara's with Denise, I'm with Rosita, and Sasha's with...” he trailed off, “You just don't seem to be close to anyone else.”

“She's my friend. Ain't mean I want to settle with her.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled and scratched his mustache, “Did you ever think about it before?”

“Dunno. Maybe,” he muttered.

“There ya go again, touchin' that knife. You're _always_ touchin' it.”

“So what if I am?”

“You were thinkin' about settling with her,” he pointed to the knife on Daryl's hip, “Maggie's sister.”

“Beth. Her name was Beth,” Daryl growled.

“Sorry, never got the chance to...” he sighed and trailed off.

“Well you're always touchin' that necklace. All day today.”

“Rosita,” he sighed again. His brow was furrowed. He looked lovesick? Daryl didn't know what that looked like, but it seemed like the right word.

“What about her?”

“She's not...I don't...”

“Spit it out already,” Daryl grumbled.

“My dick wants one thing, my heart wants another, and my head is fuckin' caught in between.”

“Funny problem to have.”

“You ever have it?”

“No.”

Abraham's eyes darted back and forth like he wanted to say more. His mouth opened and closed. He sighed and turned back to the mirror, fingering that necklace again.

Daryl used the opportunity to slip out into the hall. The sharp notes of a piano drifted down the hallway. Daryl wanted to cover his ears. His eyes were stinging. He was grinding his teeth in irritation of what he was feeling. The notes scraped against his skin, coarse, rough, like sand. He glanced at the doorknob behind him. His fingers reached for it, but he didn't want to go back in there with Abraham. He tried the door next to his and Abraham's room, but it was locked. The next door was locked too. He was being pushed further and further down the hall until he reached the very last door.

The piano was almost unbearably loud here. He grumbled to himself and turned to go back to his room and sit with the sulking Abraham. The notes drifting through the door engulfed him and held him in place. He spun around and his fingers closed on the doorknob. This one was unlocked. Like it was waiting for him.

The door fell open into the room with only the lightest touch from him. This room was much smaller, but just as empty as the room he had shared with Abraham. This one contained no bookshelves. The walls were paneled with a dark red wood that was lined with black trim. A black marble fireplace took up much of the back wall to the left of the door. To the right was a lone floral couch that stretched diagonally across the corner of the room. The piano, a black, heavy beast, was pressed against the opposite wall in between two large windows that were draped with heavy crimson curtains. The fireplace was lit and was casting a strange orange-yellow light across the room that sat in a perpetual dusk.

A lone figure sat at the piano, all covered in shadow. She was a little ghost of a person with yellow hair trailing down her back so long it almost brushed the piano bench. She kept playing as Daryl quietly closed the door behind him. The song sounded painfully sad to him and the ghost sang no words to accompany the melancholy notes. Maybe it was too painful for her to sing them, maybe there weren't any words in the English language sad enough to accompany the song, just like there wasn't anyone sad enough to accompany Daryl in his grief.

He had been surrounded by others since his arrival at Alexandria, but he never felt more alone. For the past six months or longer, he'd been wishing everyday that he was back out there in the woods with Beth.

The song spoke of everything he'd been feeling, from the quick and shrill high notes that sounded like panicked, horrified little shrieks to the deepest darkest low sounds that sang of the bottomless pit that only those who grieve know, to all the trills and crescendos in between that promised glimmers of hope, only to have them dashed by that deep blackness, over and over, slashed through like a knife.

Goosebumps crept up his arms. His feet were rooted to the spot. His shoulders slumped forward under the weight of the music. All he could see in his mind was Beth smiling at him from the seat next to him at the kitchen table, eyes sparkling in the candlelight, her face full of hope and fear. Hope for what? Fear of what? Did she know?

The last notes of the song died, a slow and languishing death, lingering in the room long after her hands had stilled on the keys.

“Beth,” her name fell from his lips, a prayer, a hope, even though he knew it was downright useless.

The woman's hands fell to her sides. Her shoulders slumped forward and he thought he could sense the muscles in them twitch, as if they were trying to decide whether to turn around or stay still.

Daryl's heart was pounding. He wished she'd make up her mind to keep playing or to turn and look at him so he could know that it wasn't her, that it wasn't Beth and he could mumble an apology and leave.

“Beth?” he said again. This time it came as a growl and he was getting antsy.

Fear hung in the air so thick he could smell it. It was overwhelming and he could sense it was more than just his fear, but hers too. He wanted to close the distance between himself and the ghost, but he was frozen.

“Beth,” he called one last time, loud and clear, despite the tremble in his voice.

Her shoulders perked up this time and he knew she had to have heard him. She stayed seated, head up, looking straight ahead at the wall. Daryl felt the familiar crushing ache, bitter disappointment like vomit in his mouth and he turned and reached for the doorknob. The brass felt like ice in his hands and he shivered. A spasm shot up his arm and he pulled it away, massaging his bicep with his other hand.

A palm splayed against his back between the two wings on his vest, cold and small, a hand that could only belong to a ghost. All the air was sucked out of the room. He knew that touch. It was the same one that had soothed him one drunken afternoon when all he could feel was guilt, despair, and self-loathing. A touch that made him reconsider those feelings, one that made him put them away.

_You've got to. Or it kills you._

_There's no room left. I can't put it away. Not this one._

The hand drifted down his spine, moving like a whisper before disappearing entirely.

“Daryl?” the ghost spoke. Her voice was coarse and cracked.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He couldn't make his legs work.

“Daryl,” the ghost whimpered.

She flung herself against his back. Not a ghost. Real. Solid. Warm. Sweater covered arms encircled his chest and pale slender fingers twisted in the front of his shirt. She trembled against him. His body relaxed in her arms and he leaned back into her embrace.

The choking, sharp, breathy sounds of her sobs filled the room. His back heaved and shuddered against her chest in time with them. He swept everything he was feeling, all those little dust particles of hope, into a dust bin at the edge of his mind. This couldn't be happening. He must be dreaming again. He'd wake up in those freshly laundered white sheets that never stayed clean for more than a few hours because of his refusal to shower constantly. He'd wake up with his heart fluttering against his ribs only to have it shot with an arrow at the realization that it was just another dream.

If it was a dream, he might as well try to drag it out as long as possible. She slowly pulled away from him. Her hand slid down his side and slipped into his. She tugged on his hand.

“Turn around,” she begged, “I have to see. I have to know.”

“No,” his voice was husky and deep, “This ain't real. You're dead.”

“I'm not dead. I'm right here. Please.”

The sound of her voice breaking made him turn. The breath caught in his throat. Her eyes were the same, big and blue-green, but they were darkened by the dim lighting and from something else too Daryl suspected. The orange light danced across the black surface of her pupils shining like a little sun. Her eyes were glossy and wet and so was the rest of her face. A raised red-pink line ran across the middle of her cheek below her left eye. It hugged the curve of her cheekbone and thinned out as it stretched towards the side of her head. She had another one above her right eyebrow, crossing her forehead and disappearing where her hair fell across her face.

Her hand was still gripping his—so tight that he couldn't feel his fingers.

“Not leaving ya ever again,” he managed to force out in a deep gravelly voice as he squeezed her hand and wiggled his fingers slightly to get her to loosen her hold.

She nodded, but the hurt and worry showed in her eyes and in the lines of her face. His free hand came up and cupped her jaw. He ran his fingers over her cheekbone. He pressed his thumb into the soft flesh of her cheek and traced the scar there, wishing he could make it disappear.

“We both have 'em now,” Beth said.

“Ya shouldn't have any,” he growled.

“Other people decided that I should,” she said, her eyes dropping to watch his fingers.

His mind was buzzing with questions and despite the hand wound tightly in his and the warm flesh under his fingertips, he still didn't believe this was real. How? How could it be? He heard that gun go off. Saw her collapse to the floor in a pool of her own blood. He carried her lifeless body out those doors even though his brain had done its damnedest to block it out, hastily covering the whole memory in a thick coat of paint as black as a starless night.

“How?” this was the only question he could manage.

“Jus' grazed me,” she whispered.

She brought his hand up to the side of her head and his fingers brushed against a large bumpy patch of skin.

“Steven—the doctor at Grady found me. Saved my life. Left the hospital with him and some of the other people—none of the cops. Just got here a week ago. Most of them didn't make it. Only three of us,” she told him. It all poured out between quick breaths, “How? What are you doing here? Is Maggie...?”

“Maggie's alive. She's here,” Daryl said, “After...after you...died, we left Georgia. We met some new people who said there was gonna be a cure if we got to the capital. Was all a bunch of bullshit. We found a community with walls. Kinda like this one, but different.”

Daryl felt like he was rambling. His mind was being forced in a hundred different directions. He just wanted to hold her. Make sure over and over that she was real, that this was real.

_I love you._

The words washed through his mind like the sea swallowing up the beach at high tide. He wanted to say it to her, but he was scared. He still didn't know how she felt about him, didn't know if she had been thinking of him everyday like he thought of her.He threw his arms around her and squeezed her so hard he lifted her off the ground. She was so hollow and frail. He was going to change that when they got back. He would make sure she never went hungry. Her cheek brushed against his stubbly one and she pressed a lingering kiss along the side of his jaw.

“God, I missed you,” Daryl whispered in her ear. The words gushed forth and he couldn't have stopped them if he wanted to.

“I missed you too. Thought about ya everyday.”

His belt tangled on her sweater and she reached down to free herself. It was her knife that had caught. The handle had twisted around a loose thread on her sweater, almost like it could sense its owner was there and it was trying to get back to her. She smiled when she saw what had caught her and stroked the handle lovingly for a few seconds.

“Wondered what happened to this,” she said with a laugh, “Always with you, huh?”

He nodded, “Always.”

“Always with me too,” she told him, her hand moving from her knife to rest over her heart.

 


	3. Second Chances

The rest of their time at The Hilltop passed in a blur of tears and emotion. Maggie, Rick, Glenn, and Abraham had burst into the room effectively breaking up Daryl and Beth's reunion. Daryl had stepped back quietly and watched—and it was beautiful to watch. Rick got to her first, his jaw nearly hit the floor and he shook his head in disbelief and rubbed his eyes like he was seeing Lori's ghost again, and he enfolded her in his arms, kissing her cheek several times. He shot a smile at Daryl over Beth's shoulder, tears running down his face.

Maggie was doing a combination of shrieking, screaming, sobbing, and laughing. She threw her arms around Beth and collapsed to the floor. Glenn was mumbling something, but Maggie didn't seem to be able to hear or care what he was saying. He tried to pull his shaking wife to her feet, probably worrying about the baby being hurt from all the excitement. Glenn gave her a quick hug after he managed to pull Maggie off her. Michonne embraced Beth next, kissing her face a couple times, before stepping back and hugging Rick who was still crying.

Abraham cleared his throat and stepped up last. He introduced himself and offered his hand to her, but she refused it and threw her arms around him instead. After they broke apart, Maggie was back on her again. Rick pulled Daryl aside.

“We still need to work out a deal with Gregory. I need Maggie to do this. Can ya find an excuse to take Beth somewhere until we get this sorted out?” Rick asked.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Daryl agreed.

Rick and Glenn managed to untangle Maggie from Beth. Daryl swept her out of the room and down to the opposite end of the hall where two French doors opened onto a small balcony with a little white bench. The bench was so small, they could barely fit side by side. Beth's thigh and shoulder were pressed up against his.

“Reminds me of that coffin ya slept in when we stayed at the funeral home,” she said with a laugh.

“Except you weren't squished in there next to me.”

She turned to look at him. The tip of her nose almost brushed against his. She had that look, the one he had memorized that night they sat at the kitchen table.

_Oh._

Her cheeks were flushing pink. The sight of it made him relax. Her skin was so swan-white she looked almost corpse like. It was good to see some color creeping into it like an invisible hand was painting life back into her after she had been dead for a year. She drew in a breath, a long, deep one, one that sounded like it was the first breath she'd ever taken.

“I wanted to be,” she said suddenly, her blush deepening, “I mean, it was freezin' upstairs. Woulda been warmer if we had slept together, like when we were in the woods.”

“You shoulda,” he mumbled, “I wouldnta minded,” he cleared his throat, “If ya were cold, you should have.” He had no idea what the hell he was saying, but he felt like an idiot.

“I missed sleepin' next to you,” she admitted.

“We only did it when were were out there.”

“Still, it was nice,” she paused and took a nervous breath, “I was hopin' we'd get to do it more and maybe not always out there, maybe like in a real bed instead.”

_We can now. If ya still want to._

“Me too,” he blurted again without thinking.

What was he thinking? It was different lying down next to each other on the ground. Out there, there was little to no implications. They were just doing what was natural—staying close to stay warm, to stay safe, to keep from being afraid of the crushing darkness and all that was buried within it.

“What's the place you're stayin' at like?” she asked

“Not like this place. Bunch a houses. Real nice ones. Real big ones. Like one of those gated communities.”

“Do you have your own house?”

“No. I'm stayin' with Rick, Carl, Michonne, and Carol. There's plenty of room. Rick, Carl, and Michonne have bedrooms upstairs. Me and Carol have the two downstairs bedrooms. There's a room in between ours that was Morgan's, but he moved into his own house a few weeks ago.”

“What about Maggie and Glenn?”

“They have their own house. We were all sharin' two houses when we firs' got there, but everyone spread out after a couple months.”

“You didn't though. Ya didn't want your own place?”

“Nah. It was better to have the distraction—the noise, Judith throwing those plastic cups across the kitchen floor, Carl runnin' up and down the stairs.”

“Distraction from what?” her brow furrowed.

He gave her a long stare. Her mouth opened slightly and then closed again.

“Thought ya were dead,” he said finally, “Couldn't stop thinking about it—about you.”

“What happened to me, it wasn't your fault. That place was...and those people...” she trailed off and cringed.

“Everyday I'd just play that scene in my head over and over, imaginin' how it coulda played out different. If you woulda jus' come and stood behind me. If Noah wouldnta been there, maybe you wouldn't have that scar.”

“Ya gotta stop blamin' yourself for these things.”

“I can't help it. I shouldn't have let ya get taken in the first place. We coulda found the group and everything would've been fine.”

“There was nothin' you could've done.”

A silence fell over them. Her fingers found his and she squeezed his hand. Her eyes traced the tired lines of his face like she was trying to read the signs, figure out what he was thinking. He tried to keep his face as blank as possible to betray the guilt and anger he was feeling and after a few minutes she seemed satisfied and moved on.

“There's an empty room in Rick's house? Next to yours?” she asked suddenly.

“Yeah. It's small though. Only a bed and a dresser. Not much room for anything else.”

“Do ya think Rick would mind?”

“Nah, he wouldn't. Wouldn't ya rather stay at Maggie and Glenn's house? They have a couple spare rooms that are bigger.”

“Is their house close to Rick's?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“You wanna be close to Judith?” he asked.

She shook her head, “No, well, it'd be nice. I missed her, but...” she trailed off, “I've thought about it a lot, Daryl. You and me, our time out there together. I've thought about you every day since I woke up in that stupid hospital. I know it's wrong. I shoulda been worrying about Maggie, but I wasn't. I knew she'd be ok. She has Glenn, but you...I was worried about you. Not because I don't think you can take care of yourself. I know ya can. I know you're strong. It's not that. I was worried about you being alone.”

Daryl suddenly felt guilty for being so depressed in the months she had been gone. She couldn't have known it, but she was right to worry about him.

“'s ok. I'm sure Rick would be more than happy to have you stay with us.”

“How's your room? Is it bigger?”

“Bigger than the one next to it, yeah. Bigger bed, more furniture.”

“Is there room for me?” she asked so quietly he could barely hear.

“What are you askin'?”

“I wanna stay with you.”

“There's only one bed in there.”

“I know. I wanna stay in it with you. I wanna sleep with you like we did when we were out there together.” Her face turned redder when she realized what she said.

He stared at her and she met his eyes. She leaned in closer. Electricity bounced back and forth between them. He found himself licking his lips out of reflex. He wanted this. He wanted her. He had known that since before she was taken.

“Oh, sorry,” Rick mumbled as the door creaked open, “Didn't mean to interrupt,” he said, grinning.

Daryl shook his head, “'s ok.”

“Rick, there's something I wanna ask you,” Beth said before he could go back inside, “Can I stay at your house?”

“Ya don't wanna stay with Maggie and Glenn?”

“I wanna stay with Daryl,” she said staring down at her boots.

“Daryl, huh? Well, I don't see how that would be a problem. I think he wants you to stay with him too,” Rick said with a wink, “I'd be happy to let you stay at my house and I'm sure Judith will be happy too.”

She was grinning now and Daryl found himself smiling as well.

“There's a bedroom downstairs between Daryl and Carol's rooms. You're more than welcome to it,” Rick told her.

“That won't be necessary,” Beth said.

“Oh?” Rick asked raising an eyebrow.

“I can stay in Daryl's room.”

Rick looked to Daryl and he felt Rick's piercing stare trying to slice open his skull. Daryl nodded.

“You can move your stuff and thangs in when we get back, but right now I need you two back inside,” Rick paused and looked from Daryl to Beth, “I'll give you two minutes, then meet us downstairs.” Rick gave them one last smile and disappeared inside.

Beth put her hand on the side of Daryl's face and turned his head back towards hers. She kept her fingers there, her thumb stroking his jaw. She leaned in closer again. Her eyelids fluttered closed. Her tongue flicked across her lips. Daryl closed the distance between them. She moved her lips over his slowly. His hand came up and cradled her cheek. Her skin was so warm and soft under his fingertips. _Warm,_ not like it had been that day he carried her out of the hospital.

The door creaked again as it opened and Rick interrupted them for the second time. She reluctantly broke the kiss, keeping her face close to his still.

“C'mon,” she breathed, “We better go see what's goin' on.”

Daryl couldn't move. He was rooted to the spot as if vines had grown out of the bench and tied him to this place in time with her.

“C'mon,” she said again, smiling, “This is jus' the beginning.”

“Beginning of what?” he blurted without thinking.

She shrugged, “Whatever we want it to be.”

Rick came back out again and scolded them for taking so long. This time they had no choice but to get up and follow him inside. Beth stood next to him, holding his hand as Rick went over what had happened in the negotiations between Maggie and Gregory. An agreement had been reached and they were going to war with the Saviors in exchange for half the food from The Hilltop. Daryl didn't feel too worried about the whole thing. They had made short work of that group of bikers a few months ago. How bad could these guys be? Couldn't be any worse than the Governor, he figured.

His thoughts were tangled around Beth. He felt hope for the first time in a long time. They were going to be sharing a room, maybe a house in a few months if there was one open--it might be nice to have the space and the privacy. Maybe they could even be something like Maggie and Glenn or Rick and Michonne.

They loaded up the RV with the provisions from The Hilltop and they waited for Beth to say goodbye to the two people she had travelled with and when she returned, they headed back to Alexandria. Beth was squished next to Maggie but her eyes were fixated on Daryl and his on her. The only time she looked away was when Maggie was showing everyone the sonogram picture. Beth looked absolutely thrilled, but Daryl could see something that looked like sadness behind her eyes although he wasn't sure why since he knew how much she loved Judith.

Maggie wore herself out eventually and collapsed onto Glenn's shoulder. Beth wriggled free and squeezed into the seat next to Daryl. She didn't say anything, just smiled at him. Her hand found his and she laced their fingers together. He folded his fingers over hers and looked away shyly, fully aware that Glenn's eyes were on them. Glenn leaned forward and put his hand on Daryl's knee.

“Look, it's ok. You don't have to so awkward about it. We get it. You two were out there alone together for awhile. Maggie and I aren't so clueless to believe that _nothing_ happened between the two of you, especially after having watched you grieve for Beth over the last year. Hug her, hold her, _kiss_ her, whatever you need, whatever she needs. Don't hold back on the account of us being here,” Glenn said.

“Nothing like _that_ happened out there,” Daryl growled.

“But something happened. Am I right, Beth?”

“There was definitely _something_ ,” she said with a smile.

Glenn gave a satisfied nod, “Second chances are nothing short of a miracle in this world and you've just been handed one a silver platter.”

Glenn leaned back in his seat and shot a glance at Abraham who took the hint and pretended to look out the window. When both Glenn and Abe had their eyes elsewhere, Daryl let go of Beth's hand and all at once their arms were around each other. He practically pulled her into his lap. It was both awkward and not at the same time. There had only been a few times they had embraced before today even though they'd been curling up together at night when it was cold. He'd thought about it a hundred times in his dreams and had imagined it day after day so he was more than comfortable with the idea of holding her by now.

The physicality of it was what was awkward—the way her boots rubbed across his lap as he pulled her in, her forehead bumping into his jaw, and their fingers groping for a comfortable place to hold, all of it happening in front of Glenn, Jesus, Abraham, Michonne, and a sleeping Maggie, like an ill-rehearsed dance, the clumsiness of new lovers that takes time, care, and patience to refine. He lifted her hips and set her down on his lap so she was straddling him and facing him. He probably should have thought it out more before he pulled her into such a position. The heat and weight combined with her shifting around, combined with the way she smelled and the way her skin felt against his body was causing an involuntary reaction in his boxers that was going to be uncomfortable to deal with when she stood up.

Her arms were wrapped around his neck and her fingers were massaging the back of his scalp. She was whispering his name over and over in his ear as her cheek pressed against his. He was saying hers in between. His mind was an overflowing well of things to say, but once again he couldn't make them come out.

_I'm so glad you're alive._

_I never want to stop holding you. I've thought about this every fuckin' day since you went missing._

_I never stopped thinkin' about you._

_I know now that I loved you back then, that night at the funeral home._

_I love you still._

_I want us to be somethin' together. More than friends._

And maybe the most important thought of all,

_How do you feel? Do you feel the same?_

She started to kiss his jaw starting near his ear and trailing down until suddenly her lips covered his with a shy, sweet little kiss. Heat rushed into his face. He was overcome with the sensation of falling. The world was fading around him. He could still hear the gravel crunching under the tires, but the sound was becoming ever more distant as if it was static from another planet. His hands tightened around her waist. He kissed her back just as shyly, but the kiss soon turned hungry. There was too much behind it, too much going on in both their heads over the past year for it to stay chaste and innocent for long even with the others watching them. The more he kissed her the more the world fell away beneath them. She was the only thing that mattered right now and maybe the only thing that ever mattered. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and slid against his. He groaned against her lips. He drew her closer, his fingers digging into her back. He wanted her to melt into him. He knew he loved her. He knew he wanted her. He didn't know just how _much_ until now.

Abraham cleared his throat. Beth slowly pulled away, her chest heaving against his. Her face was wet with tears, but she was smiling.

“You do?” she asked.

“I do,” he said, guessing at what she was asking.

“I love you too,” she whispered in his ear.

Something in his gut fluttered at her words. It felt unreal to hear it spoken outside of one of his dreams.

“For how long?” he asked.

“Dunno, since we were out there together.”

“You?”

“Same.”

“So this is how Eugene felt watchin' me and Rosita all those times,” Abraham said.

Daryl was suddenly uncomfortably aware that he and Beth were the center of attention. He shifted her off his lap onto the seat next to him and hurriedly tugged his shirt down over his boner. Maggie was awake now.

“So, I was right about you, two,” she said, “Didn't know Daryl was your type.”

“Didn't know Glenn was _yours_ ,” Beth teased back.

The RV came to a stop as they waited for the gates to be opened.

“I suppose this means you two will want to stay together now,” Maggie said.

Daryl and Beth looked at each other and nodded.

“Rick said I could stay with Daryl at his house,” Beth said quietly, avoiding her sister's eyes.

Maggie sighed, “Ok, if I can't convince you guys to stay with me and Glenn.”

“We could always move in with you later, closer to the baby bein' born,” Beth offered. Something in the tone of her voice as she said it made Daryl believe she had no intention of ever moving in with Maggie and Glenn. He guessed that during his time with her in the woods she had grown to like being independent of her sister the same way he had grown to like being out from under Merle's boot after Rick left him handcuffed to that roof.

The metal gate clanked as it was rolled aside and the RV lurched forward again.

“Ya don't have to. I'm just glad you're alive, that you're back, that you're gonna get to be an aunt to my baby,” Maggie said.

Beth gave Maggie a smile and nodded as the group climbed out of the RV.

Beth moved in her small backpack full of stuff—mostly clothes. Daryl gave her the top two drawers which were empty. Neither of them had many clothes and Beth's didn't even fill up of half one drawer. Maggie and Michonne had both offered to give her some of their clothes. Maggie was soon to need bigger clothes anyway for her growing stomach. Daryl sat on the bed watching her as she folded her clothes and put them away.

Michonne appeared in the door frame and tapped on it to announce her presence.

“I've got a few things that might fit you for the party tonight,” she told Beth.

Beth took her hand and they disappeared upstairs together. They didn't come back right away so Daryl decided he'd get cleaned up and find something nicer to wear for the welcome party Rick and Michonne were throwing for Beth. He took out a pair of black jeans he had scavenged recently and hadn't had a chance to wear yet and a black button down shirt that was less worn than the others he owned. He went down the hall to the bathroom and locked the door behind himself.

He turned the water temperature up higher than he normally did and let his muscles relax under it.

_Beth is alive._

Relief ran through him at the thought.

_She's alive and we're together again._

He couldn't wait to hold her again, touch her again.

_Kiss her again. Kiss her every damn day hopefully. Do more than that too._

He thought about her sitting in his lap, kissing him, and he started to get hard again.

_She's gonna be sleepin' next to me tonight in that bed._

His hand slid down over his stomach to the base of his dick. His fingers wrapped around it. The last time he had masturbated was probably over a year ago, when he was out there with her. He'd felt guilty about it then, but that was nothing new. For some reason he always felt guilty about jerking off and that was why he tried to avoid it as much as possible, but that day in the woods he couldn't control himself.

He woke up that morning leaning against the trunk of a tree shivering and alone. He was immediately snapped wide awake realizing that Beth's warmth wasn't pressed against him. She wasn't in sight, so he snatched up his crossbow and crept off through the trees. He found her tracks and followed them to where she had her back pressed up against a tree. Her jeans were pulled all the way down, but still wrapped around one leg. She had taken one boot off and her pale foot dug into the muddy ground. He followed the line of her leg up to where it joined with her hip. Her hand was working back and forth between her thighs. Her shirt was pulled up, exposing her small perky breasts and her other hand was playing with a nipple. Her head was thrown back and the strands of her ponytail were snagged on the rough bark of the tree.

Daryl ducked back behind the tree he was hiding behind. His heart was racing and his palms were sweaty. He was already hard from the few seconds he had watched her and he could still hear her breath coming in heavy pants and little moans escaping from her every few seconds. And then she said something that made his heart stop and his skin flush ice cold.

“Daryl,” she breathed.

He panicked. He supposed he had been caught. His mind fumbled for excuses and apologies.

_It was an accident, I swear. But maybe next time we could..._

He was frozen, unable to decide if he should hurry back to their camp or step out from his hiding spot and apologize while he stared at his boots.

“Daryl,” she groaned again.

He leaned forward, ever-so-slightly, and peeked around the tree again. She still had her eyes shut and her hand was moving faster, making wet sucking sounds as she pushed her fingers into her cunt.

“Oh god, fuck, Daryl,” she whispered.

Seeing the way her lips moved over his name as she touched herself, made him lose the little self-control he had left. His fingers were shaking as he undid his belt and unzipped his pants. His erection sprung free and he pushed his boxers down and started stroking himself to her sounds.

Daryl wasn't looking at her, but the image of her half-naked and pressed up against that tree was burned in his brain. He was imagining walking out from his hiding place with his dick out, picking her up and laying her down on the leaves and taking her right there. He wondered what she'd taste like as his kissed and licked and sucked down her chest and stomach and up her inner thighs until he got to her pussy.

It wasn't the first time since they had fled the prison that the thought of the two of them taking care of each other in other ways had crossed his mind. The thought terrified him because it was the first time he'd thought about someone from their group like that. What would the others do when they found out? What if it messed things up between him and Beth and made it impossible for them to be part of the same group?

This was the first time he had touched himself to those thoughts. Usually he just pushed them away when they popped up in his brain and thought of something disgusting (and there was lots of inspiration in the world around him) until his erection went away.

Beth was breathing faster now and he could tell she was trying to stifle her moans. Daryl was still imagining fucking her on the ground, pounding into her from behind with his chest pressed against her back and on hand gripping her waist and the other playing with her tits, only letting go to pull on her ponytail and bite the back of her neck, fucking like the feral creatures they were becoming after so much time alone together in the woods.

He came thinking of that and quickly pulled up his boxers and wiped his hand on them before zipping up. Beth kept going for a few more minutes, saying his name as her sounds became more intense, louder, sharper and then finally stopped. He gave her a few minutes to compose herself before quietly sneaking back to camp. He sat down by the fire and she joined him a minute later. He could smell her arousal which still lingered on the hand she'd been rubbing herself with and he was half tempted to take her fingers in his mouth and taste her. Instead he poked at the fire, trying to get it going again as she moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around his bicep as she complained about being cold.

_Well no shit. You just had half your clothes off for a good twenty or thirty minutes._

He had been getting cold too in the short time he had his boxers pulled down. His hands were almost numb. Beth took one in hers and put it between her thighs where it was warm, almost _hot._ He wriggled his fingers back and forth between her legs, inching them up closer to where the heat turned into a damp heat. He wondered what she'd do if he slid his hand up just a little more and started stroking her.

Instead, he removed his hand as soon as it was warm and they put out the fire and moved on.

The heat of the shower was a much nicer place to jerk off. It would have been even nicer if she was in there with him. He guessed she was probably showering upstairs in Michonne and Rick's bathroom.

He dried off and dressed and then went into the living room to wait for Beth to come downstairs. The floorboards upstairs creaked and he heard her shoes on the stairs. He stood up and moved towards the stairway. Michonne had found a tight fitting red dress that fell just above her knee and had sleeves that stopped just past her elbows. She had left her hair down and brushed it to the left side in what Daryl guessed was an attempt to hide her gunshot scar. Michonne had helped her put on some makeup to try and cover up the scars on her face, but they were still visible. She looked different with a face full of makeup, red lipstick and mascara. She seemed more unreal than ever, a ghost trying to prove she still existed, that death hadn't sucked all the color out of her, that she still had substance.

“Well, aren't you gonna say something? Or has she left you speechless?” Michonne asked.

Daryl was searching for something to say and he felt his face getting red as the two women stared him down. He leaned in closer to Beth so he could whisper in her ear.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“You clean up nice too,” she said, “Never seen ya in anything but old jeans and those shirts with the sleeves ripped off.”

He mumbled a thanks and she slid her arm around the middle of his back.

“I never noticed it before, but you two compliment each other very well,” Michonne told them as she looked from Beth to Daryl.

Beth looked at him and smiled. Michonne left them to go get the food set up in the kitchen. Beth wrapped her fingers around his upper arm. Her fingers felt cold and she looked anxious.

“Wanna go for a walk and get some air?” Daryl asked her.

She nodded and squeezed his arm.

Outside, the air was sharp with a slight chill that made her cling closer to him or maybe it was something else.

“I thought about you everyday,” she blurted as they walked along the street in front of Rick's house, “I never gave up hope that I'd find you again.”

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he said.

_I just didn't think you were alive._

“I kept havin' this dream where you carried me out of the hospital and you were crying.”

His skin flushed cold.

_Was she conscious when I carried her out of there? How the fuck could I not have noticed?_

“I did,” he muttered, “I carried you out. That really happened.”

She studied his face carefully. He tried to force a small smile. He didn't want her to feel guilty that he had spent the last year grieving for her.

“I dream about that night at the funeral home too,” she told him.

“Yeah?”

_Me too._

“The dream's always the same. You're about to tell me somethin' important, but before ya can walkers break down the door and I wake up.”

“There was somethin' I wanted to tell you. Think ya figured it out by now though.”

“Oh yeah?” she gave him that innocent look again.

“You know...” he muttered feeling nearly as nervous as he had that night.

“What?” she said.

“I was gonna ask ya if ya felt the same,” he mumbled, “About me, about us.”

“Oh.”

“Did ya?” His heart was pounding now.

She nodded shyly,“How do you feel about me now?”

“Like maybe we could be somethin'.”

“What did you want us to be?”

“Dunno. Maybe somethin' like Maggie and Glenn or Rick and Michonne.”

“I wanna be somethin' with you too.”

“Did ya then?” he asked.

“Didn't know if ya felt the same, but yeah I did.”

“Is that what we're gonna tell 'em tonight? That we're somethin' now?”

“Think they already know after the ride home,” she said blushing.

“Hmpf. If anyone else that asks, should I tell 'em you're my woman?”

“Your woman?” she laughed, “How about your girlfriend?”

“So you really want to be?” he asked, still not really believing this was happened.

“Hell yeah, I wanna.”

She was smiling again and looked relaxed. She put a hand on either side of his jaw and pulled her face closer to his until her nose brushed his.

_Like a damn romance novel._

Beth closed the distance between their lips. His hands wrapped around her hips and he pulled her closer. He let one of his hands wander down over her ass. She made some noise against his lips that sounded half-moan and half-laugh and her hips bucked against his. He found himself thinking of her that day he caught her touching herself in the woods. He squeezed her ass, dragging her against the front of his hips. She pulled back breathlessly.

“Daryl, can we go back now?”

He nodded and together they walked hand-in-hand back up the street. The sun was setting behind them, disappearing beyond those great gray walls, draining away what little warmth the day had. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders protectively like he did a dozen times when it was just the two of them in the forest.

The guests hadn't arrived yet so Daryl ushered her into his bedroom and together they sat on the edge of the bed. Hot orange late-afternoon sunlight filtered in through the blinds and spilled across her pale face turning it a glowing citrus color and illuminating every one of her long eyelashes.

“You ok?” Daryl asked her, winding his fingers through hers.

She nodded slowly, “Yeah, it's just I wish we could just spend the rest of the night in here.”

“I know how you feel. I felt the same when we first got here. Couldn't even bring myself to go to the welcome party they threw for us,” he told her, “Didn't help that I couldn't stop thinkin' about you and wishin' you were there with me.”

“If I was there, I probably woulda made you go to that party.”

“I know and I wouldn't of wanted to, but I coulda done it if you were with me.”

She laid her head on his shoulder and her forehead pressed into his jaw. She felt cold and clammy to the touch.

“I really jus' wanna be alone with you for awhile.”

“Ya want me to tell Rick you're not feelin' well?” he asked.

“Nah, we can go out in a bit.”

Her fingers curled in the back of his hair and she pulled his mouth against hers. Her kisses were open-mouthed and hungry again and she tasted like cherry candy and lipstick. He was probably going to have red all over his mouth and would have to wipe it off before they went out to the party.

Beth fell back onto the bed, pulling him on top of her. He leaned over her, her legs coming up on either side of him. He ran his fingers slowly up her bare thighs, up under her skirt, over the sides of her hips where she was bare also. She leaned up and pulled the dress over her head and tossed it aside. He paused, taking in the sight of her completely naked on his bed—on their bed. His stomach dropped when he realized she had more scars than just the two on her face and the one on the side of her head.

There was one above her left breast, angling up towards her shoulder and another one in between her tits. Further down, two or three crisscrossed her stomach on either side of her bellybutton and one cradled her right hip bone.

“Is somethin' wrong?” she asked, moving her hand to cover the one near her hip bone.

He shook his head and began to undo the buttons on his shirt. His heart sped up as he shrugged off his shirt leaving all his scars visible to her. He leaned back over her and she reached a hand up to trace a long scar that ran from just under his left nipple down to his bellybutton while he traced the one above her left breast.

“No. You're just so fuckin' beautiful,” he said finally.

“So are you.”

“Stop. We both know that ain't true,” he muttered.

Daryl collapsed on top of her and nuzzled his face into the side of her neck. Her chest pressed against his. Her breathing was slow and deep, but beneath her skin, he could feel her heart racing, fluttering like those little birds as they flew away at the sound of gunfire. He suddenly felt anxious and unsure. Was this really the time to be doing this?

“We should go out there and get this over with,” he mumbled against her neck.

“We should stay in here for a bit longer. I'm not ready to go out there.”

“Hmpf.”

He lifted himself up onto his elbows and kissed her again. This time he moved his mouth down over her jaw, under her chin and down her neck. He kissed and sucked along her collarbone, biting the cradle between her neck and shoulder until she let out a little gasp and squirmed underneath him. She was watching him with that breathless look she had once when they sat at the kitchen table in the funeral home. She sucked in a breath and her stomach dipped in, making her ribs even more prominent.

He slowly kissed down her breastbone and over her stomach.

“Daryl,” she breathed, “Please.” Her fingers reached for his belt buckle at the same time he did. They fumbled together to get his belt open and his zipper down. He kicked off his boots, pants, and boxers and climbed on top of her.

She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of her so her chest heaved against his. Her legs wrapped around his hips and she rubbed her wet pussy against his lower abdomen. She was kissing him hungrily now, a woman starved and he kissed back with the same hunger, like he was trying to devour her. The thought crossed his mind again that maybe they should stop, maybe they should save this for another time, but he could feel the same ache that he felt tremble through her with every kiss, every buck of her hips against his, every clumsy attempt to get his dick inside her. His hips were thrusting against her just as clumsily and he groaned every time his dick slid against the heat between her legs. He had never wanted someone more.

Her fingernails were digging into his back and she was begging him. He reached down and positioned his dick at her entrance. She tightened her legs around him and his hips gave an involuntary thrust at the warm wetness and he slid inside.

“Fuck,” he mouthed against her neck, “Christ, Beth.”

She whimpered and her fingernails clawed at the back of his neck as he pushed in deeper. Her brow furrowed in pain. He pulled back slightly.

“You ok?” he breathed in her ear.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, “Never done this before.”

“Ain't nothin' to be sorry about.”

There was a knock at the door causing them both to jump.

“Daryl? Beth? Everyone's here,” Rick called through the door.

He pulled out slowly and sat up. God, what the fuck was he doing? She'd been back for less than a day and he was already naked in bed with her. He felt like an ass. He reached down and scooped up her dress before slipping his pants back on. He yanked open the door as he did up his belt.

“Couldn't wait, huh?” Rick laughed, leaning around Daryl to peer into the darkening room where Beth stood next to bed, pulling her dress down.

Daryl muttered an apology.

“I understand. I couldn't either that day at the camp outside of Atlanta when I found out Lori was alive.”

He caught a glimpse of Beth straightening her hair in the mirror behind him. He could feel his face growing hot the longer Rick stared at him.

“You got a little somethin' right here,” Rick said, rubbing his thumb over his lips.

Daryl automatically brought a hand up and dragged it across his mouth. When he pulled it away, it was stained with red lipstick.

“Ya got it,” Rick told him, “See you two in a few minutes in the dinning room?”

“Yeah,” Daryl muttered.

Daryl and Beth sat next to each other in the middle of the table. Eric had made his spaghetti dinner special. Everyone kept shooting glances at Beth and then quickly looking away, pretending they weren't staring at her. She kept quiet for the most part, only looking up when someone asked her a question. The air was tense. He could sense everyone was walking around on eggshells. They had come to gawk at the ghost, whispering behind their hands, probably some crap about her relationship with Daryl.

Daryl held her hand under the table. After dinner, everyone gathered in the living room and listened to Eugene and Abraham tell jokes. Beth was looking tired and she excused herself to Rick. Daryl took her back to his room and locked the door behind them.

The sun had set and the room was pitch black except for a little bit of moonlight that filtered in through the blinds. Daryl took off his jeans and boots and slid under the covers in his boxers and a t-shirt. Beth pulled the dress over her head and stood with her shoulders hunched and her back to him.

“Beth?” he said quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Lay down.”

He pulled back the covers for her and she slid in next to him.

“You can put your arm around me,” she said sucking in a breath.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Like this?” He draped his arm over her ribs and drew her tiny naked body against his, burying his face in the back of her neck. He took a deep breath, inhaling the berry smelling soap she must have washed with earlier.

“Like this,” she agreed.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear.

“I love you too.”

Someone let out a screeching laugh in the other room, but it felt as distant as the stars. He held Beth, alone in their own world.

Beth let out a contended sigh and Daryl moved his lips slowly down her neck and along her shoulder. She rolled over onto her back and he leaned over her, kissing down her chest and licking down to her bellybutton and then lower until she shivered as he hit the sensitive skin on her waist. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and shoved them apart, pushing them over his shoulders as he moved in closer. His tongue came out to taste her, painfully slow, licking up along her slit where she was already starting to get wet again.

He flicked his tonge across her clit a few times and watched with satisfaction as she moaned and squirmed. Her hands found their way to his hair and tangled in it, pressing his face against her cunt as he began suck on her clit, letting up every few seconds to tease it with the tip of his tongue.

When she was good and wet and panting, he licked down her slit again and slid his tongue inside, feeling his way around by licking thoroughly. Her juices were running down his beard by the time he returned his tongue to her clit and slid his finger in. She whimpered slightly. She was so fucking tight, no wonder she looked like she was in pain earlier. He wasn't sure he should even add another finger.

Her hands were fisted tightly in his hair now and she was begging him to keep going, more, faster, harder. He kept going until she was practically screaming his name as she came undone underneath him. He slid his finger out and licked it clean. His dick was throbbing in his boxers as he crawled up her body and kissed her. Her fingers twisted in the waistband of his boxers and she pulled them down allowing his dick to spring free. She groaned against his lips. He tugged the boxers the rest of the way off. She wrapped her legs around his hips and once again he found himself thrusting clumsily at the warm wetness between her thighs.

This time he was able to get in easier. He watched her face carefully for any signs of pain. She nodded to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing his face down to rest in the cradle between her neck and shoulder.

“Daryl,” she breathed in his ear.

The sound of her saying his name caused his hips to buck against hers, pushing all the way inside. He pulled back slowly, almost, but not completely pulling out before thrusting back in. His hands tightened where they rested on her hips and he rolled onto his back so she was on top, straddling him. He used his hands to guide her, rolling her hips over his. Her fingers brushed against his cock as she touched herself. She was maddeningly gorgeous as she arched her back, her scars cutting through the milky surface of her skin, her hip bones pushed forward, her small breasts bouncing, her red lips parted as she whispered his name over and over like it was the only word she knew. She felt just as good as she looked—tight, wet, hot, so much better than the few times he'd used his hand since the world went to hell. He wasn't going to be able to last long. At least she had already come once.

He rolled her back over onto her back, groaning as his dick slid out temporarily. He pushed back in and her legs tightened around his back. Her arms had him in a tight embrace and it felt so good. It felt like she was trying to absorb him into her body and he would happily let himself evaporate into her. He was pounding into her faster and deeper now, thinking about how fucking amazing it was going to be to finally come undone and melt into her completely.

Somewhere at the back of his mind he knew he should have probably thought to ask Rick for a condom or at least pull out and come on her tits or her stomach, but it felt too fucking good and before he knew it, he was on the cusp of an orgasm. Beth was rubbing herself and her legs trembled against his back as her muscles fluttered and tightened around around his dick, pushing him over the edge. Her sounds were becoming louder, sharper, and closer together and by the way her body was shaking he could tell she was coming again, at the same time he was coming.

He collapsed on top of her, his heart still racing and his body shivering. She was still hugging him tightly with her whole body like he was her anchor and if she didn't hold on for dear life, she would float away. He held her with the same tenacity, his dick still buried inside her. She kissed his cheek and her fingernails dug into the back of his neck. Slowly, their breathing was returning to normal as their sweaty, sticky chests heaved against one another.

“You ok?” he asked when he was finally able to speak again.

She hummed in his ear and gave his body a squeeze in response. The sticky wetness where they were joined was starting to cool down and become uncomfortable. Daryl wriggled against her, but she only tightened her hold on him.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I'm afraid,” she said finally.

“Don't be. We'll get some condoms for next time and if somethin' did happen, 's ok. We got a doctor here and at The Hilltop.”

“No it's not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Scared someone will take me again. Scared I'll look up and you'll just be gone again.”

“That's not gonna happen. Never gonna let us get into a situation like that again. Never gonna lose you again. Ever.”

He realized there was nothing more he could say to reassure her when she didn't speak again. Instead, he squeezed her with his whole body in the way she kept squeezing him. If only they could just dissolve into each other to all but guarantee they'd never be separated again.

“This place is different. We can make it safe. We _are_ makin' it safe,” he promised her.

“Do you think it'll work out here? Do ya think we'll be able to have a life here? Get married if that's what we want? Have kids someday like Maggie and Glenn?” she asked.

“I do,” he said.

“What changed your mind?”

“You,” he whispered in her ear.

 


End file.
